


What's in a Name

by 404_BugBoy



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Background Relationships, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nonbinary Bede, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Post-Canon, Post-Game(s), Slow Burn, Trans Dande | Leon, im in quarantine might as well say fuck it and get back into the fanfic business, set where the post game takes place 5 years after
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:08:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24026389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/404_BugBoy/pseuds/404_BugBoy
Summary: Victor was the undefeated champion of Galar.He wasn't fourteen anymore, but he still felt about the same. Still scared of fans, wary of the media, and completely terrified of what he felt for his best friend.He was fucked.
Relationships: Beet | Bede & Hop & Mary | Marnie & Masaru | Victor & Yuuri | Gloria, Hop/Masaru | Victor, Mary | Marnie/Yuuri | Gloria, a buncha homies hangin out, idk theyre all there
Comments: 6
Kudos: 57





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> whats up gamers its 3pm on a lovely spring day and ive gone completely over the deep end. got tired of looking for good fics everywhere to sate my need to do something and decided, fuck it, im posting my own. have fun

Victor was the undefeated champion of Galar. 

It felt a little repetitive to defeat one undefeated champion and replace him with another, but Victor wasn't in charge of the nicknames people gave him. If he was, he'd probably choose a name focusing on his quest to fill the Pokedex, or maybe something about cycling, but here he was—undefeated champ 2.0.

There were a lot of other nicknames he'd heard. Fans falling over themselves asking for an autograph from the "Prince of Galar", kids giggling to one another about the "super-cool bug guy", brooding teenagers poking fun at the "spoiled lucky bastard". It was confusing at first, and he often didn't realize that someone was addressing him when they cheered, which had sort of landed him in the "aloof" department.

Being labeled as aloof wasn't half bad. Victor was honestly relieved when people whispered about him instead of approaching him. Becoming champion at fourteen after an undefeated twenty year old meant people were obsessed, and the media even more so. Fourteen year old Victor had his hands full with nosy TV and social media interviews—having people approach him when he was alone on the train would have scared him up a mountain.

Victor wasn't fourteen anymore, but that didn't end his celebrity status. If anything, it only boomed. He'd held the title for so long the whole region was impressed. No one seemed to think Marnie being a powerful new gym leader had anything to do with Victor's success (despite his efforts to boost her support). To the media, Victor was a star. A champion. A god.

Vic didn't think gods still lived with their Mum when they're nineteen, but the only gods he'd ever met were Pokemon, so who's to say. After the gym challenge came to a close, he and Hop tried going back to finish school. Hop fit into his newfound fame flawlessly—years of watching his brother and being in a portion of the limelight was good practice—but Vic couldn't handle it. There weren't any footholds to fit himself into, and he was washed away with discomfort and fear. Hop had helped in every way he could, but nothing worked to make Vic more comfortable. And, to Vic, if Hop couldn’t make him comfortable, it was a lost cause.  
After the seventh time his Mum caught him skipping, she dusted off her old class planners and pulled him out of public schooling. The media went crazy over that, too, until Vic's Mum scared them off with a bread roll and some colorful language.

Despite not going to school with them, Vic still made plans with Hop, Marnie, his sister Gloria, and eventually Bede, where they all vowed to put their pokeballs down and hang out like normal people for a couple hours. Sometimes they went out to eat. Other times they went camping. One time they all found out a small cinema in Wedgehurst was playing a dramatic documentary about their gym challenges, and they spent the next hour and a half in a tiny dark room trying desperately to smother their laughter. All their efforts were in vain when movie-Bede gave a speech about how honorable Victor was, and an old lady swiftly escorted four cackling teenagers and one incredibly furious red-faced Bede out of the cinema.

As they got older, though, they met up less and less. Marnie got more and more into the Spikemuth gym, and was working on getting the funding to build a proper stadium that could also hold her brother's concerts. “People out t‘ere don’ really ge’it,” She’d explained over a cup of that bubble tea stuff she was so fond of. “Is’not ‘cos ‘m worried ‘bout dynamaxin’, issjust tha’ no one takes Spikemuth seriously ‘cos we don’t got a proper stadium. I fink, nah, I hope tha’ if I build one, they’ll finally show up an’ see is’not as bad as they fink it is.”  
Of course, where Marnie went, Gloria followed. They’d gotten a flat together not long after Vic and G’s eighteenth birthday, and then gotten together not much longer than that. Where Marnie was occupied with the gym and city, Gloria managed their band. Her dream of championship didn’t change, just the profession—she’d topped the Galar charts within a year of making music and was wildly satisfied with that change of course.  
Bede was undergoing rigorous training with Opal before she deemed them worthy of the title gym leader. Their switch from psychic to fairy type pokemon was relatively simple to get the hang of, but there were way more licenses and exams to get through to become a world-recognized gym leader than Vic could ever have imagined.  
And Hop? Hop was getting his degree at Wyndon University. He was still an undecided major, but he was doing so well he'd been offered a study abroad program in Kalos. It hurt Vic to think about it. Not because he was jealous of the opportunity—he couldn’t speak kaloçais to save his life—but more because he'd be pretty lost without Hop. Bede and Marnie were good friends of his, and he'd trust them with his life, but Hop had always been his primary driving force. Whenever Vic got tangled up or stuck in his thoughts, Hop would push him into action. He wouldn't even tell him what to do—he'd just show up, all excited and full of contagious energy, and Vic would pull himself out of whatever funk he'd been in. On the other hand, he felt selfish for feeling that way. Why would he let his personal feelings get in the way of Hop’s incredibly bright future? He didn't want to think about what would happen if he lost his stride when Hop wasn't close by, but he couldn’t bear the idea of stopping him from leaving. He didn’t like to think about it.

Vic himself was busy with his own workload. He decided against college for the time being, not having a clue what he'd study anyway, and spent most of his time in the wild area. The lack of people was nice. He liked making his own schedule. Choosing his own activities. Mostly, he liked his Pokemon and cycling.

A man by the wild nursery had seen him ride and complimented his form. Apparently he didn't recognize Vic as the champion, because he kept calling him "kid" during their conversation about bikes. Not that Vic was complaining. It was better than "Prince of Galar".

So Vic got into cycle racing. He was pretty damn good at it too, if he said so himself. He liked the scene of it. Either no one knew who he was, or they didn't give a damn, and Vic was grateful for either option. He held third place for the 120 metre trail and had a cycling kit that matched his signature Golisopod, so he was pretty happy.

He met a guy his age at one of the races who recognized him, not from the TV broadcasts and magazine tabloids, but from Hop's PokéGram posts. He was a study abroad student all the way from Kanto, and at one point tried to teach Vic a couple of words in Ranseigo before quickly realizing how hopeless Vic was at languages. As an apology, Vic showed him how to make a bunch of different curry dishes ranging from savory to burn-your-mouth off hot. Judging by how the guy's face lit up, Vic supposed that was a good call.

They got to talking about school. The guy was studying economics or something, nothing Vic found particularly interesting, but he shared a biology course with Hop. That’s how Vic found out about Hop’s Kalos offer. Not from Hop himself, who usually tripped over his own words about anything and everything happening to him, but from some random econ guy in his bio class. Vic didn’t like to think about that, either.

Vic tried not to think too hard in general, to be honest. He spent most of his time in the wild area training his already incredibly strong team or in his room on his Rotomphone. Rotom had to cut him off several times, stubbornly locking him out until he went outside for a bit or at least ate something, and despite the fight he put up, Vic appreciated it every time. The only times Vic allowed himself to think deeply was during the Champion Cup matches. He always felt more alive and happy when he was on the pitch, analyzing the opponent’s team and brainstorming counters on the fly. He’d never gotten the hang of strategic battles at the gym tower like his sister did, but put him in a power match with someone else and he was in his element. He liked quick thinking, not prior planning.

Unfortunately, quick thinking wasn’t really helpful when you were supposed to be deciding your entire future. So, Vic put it off. Stared at some screens and helped his mum with dinner every night he was home. It was nice, as long as he didn’t think about it. To stop his mind from delving into his “don’t touch” box of thoughts while he slept, he trained a Hatenna to give him dreamless sleep. He had originally caught it for his mum as a gift, but she’d read up on Hatenna’s abilities and suggested the dreamless thing herself. How she’d noticed him walking around in the wee hours of the morning, staring at the (respectfully cleaned) shield hanging above their mantelpiece, Vic had no idea, but it was nice to fall asleep and not have to worry about waking up with flashes of the Slumbering Weald and echoes of pained howling thundering in his skull. He’d jokingly started referring to the Hatenna as “Bede the Dream-Crusher” (a rather mean joke on his part), but when he mentioned it in passing to Hop he’d laughed so hard he nearly pissed himself, so Vic felt obligated to keep it. Real Bede didn’t share Hop’s delight, of course, and they retaliated with a nasty quip about Vic and his attachment to Wimpod. It was a bit on-the-nose, but so was the whole dream-crushing thing, so Vic thought it was fair.

Sometimes, though, Bede the Dream-Crusher couldn’t hold back the visions of the Weald. Those nights Vic woke in a sweaty mess, bleary and filled with a gut-wrenching sense of wrongness. After, he would stand by the window facing the forest, clutching a poorly-made cup of tea in his trembling hands and trying not to look at the mantelpiece. He didn’t go back to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no idea how long this is gonna be. only have a handful of chapters done. fuck if i know! ill update sometime, probably. also, take a guess what my favorite pokemon is. go on, guess. you'll never get it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> less worldbuilding, more action ! we see hop now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah so i my chapters are small. oops. oh well. i'll just post 2 fornow.

Vic’s tea was beyond terrible and just plain shitty. He didn’t let the kettle boil hot enough, so all he had in his cup was lukewarm water and the faint taste of tetley. He drank it anyway.

He was more restless than usual. The dreams always overpowered Bede the Dream-Crusher around the anniversary of Chairman Rose going haywire. Eternatus, the bastard, was still Vic’s pokemon, but if Vic looked at it for too long his mind began working all over again, so he let it do what it pleased in Sonia’s lab. He visited it frequently—to cook it some curry and make sure it wasn’t about to nearly kill him again—but he didn’t drop by as much when the dreams came back.

They were worse this year, he thought. He thought that every year. The guilt and the fear kept stockpiling on top of each other year after year, and he kept waking up to winds outside his window howling a familiar cry. Only the wind. He didn’t like to think about it.

It was unnaturally still, he noticed, still staring out the window instead of at the mantelpiece. There wasn’t any wind moving the trees, but he still heard it through the stone walls of the house. His gaze wavered. His eyes flicked to the mantelpiece.

The shield was still as rusted as the day he found it. His mum suggested getting some remover while the two of them scrubbed all the dirt and Arceus knows what else off the surface, but it felt wrong to even suggest. The bulk of grime had been cleared away, and even though it wasn’t even close to being as shiny as it surely once was, the moonlight glinted off what areas it could. Vic couldn’t take it.

He grabbed his pokeballs and his comically large bag (he thought it looked ridiculous, but it had made Hop smile, so, like an idiot, he’d gotten attached to it), then carefully slid the shield into a padded pocket inside. He scribbled a quick note to his mum and shoved his cap over his ears. He had no idea what he was doing. At least he wasn’t thinking.

He was struck with a memory, one of him hastily packing an overnight bag in the middle of the night to sneak out to Hop’s house when he couldn’t sleep. They’d spent the rest of the night in Hop’s yard, staring at the stars and talking. 

“My favourite constellation has got to be the Canis Major,” Hop had stated, laying on his back and gazing at the sky with that barely-contained wonder that seemed stitched into his very being.

“Yeah. Me too,” Vic had agreed. But he wasn’t looking at the stars then.

Vic stepped outside and closed the door quietly behind him. He didn’t head to Hop’s house.

The Slumbering Weald’s visibility was rubbish enough during the day, so Vic wasn’t exactly surprised to discover how little he could see in the pitch black. No one on his team could light much of a path except maybe Toxtricity, but Vic didn’t want to take any of the risks that came with Toxtricity’s personality. Ever the adapter, Vic slipped his phone out of his pocket and turned the flashlight on. A few Rookidees startled awake, shooting him disgruntled looks, and all he could do was wince apologetically as they flew off in a flurry.

Vic swallowed a knot in his throat and tred onward, sidestepping any pokemon he woke accidentally. He managed to piss off a particularly nasty Corviknight, which was not his finest moment, but he managed to evade one of the most powerful birds in Galar, so a spot of embarrassingly deep breaths didn’t crush his spirit. By the time he reached the bridge leading into the heart of the Weald, he was forced to admit he had no idea what he was doing. He stopped, staring blankly into the stupid endless fog, listening to the quiet ambiance of the forest and the soft humming of his phone. He didn’t know what he was thinking. A motionless breeze howled through the trees. He took a cautious step forward.

The fog was so thick Vic could taste it in his mouth. All he could make out in the darkness was vague dark shapes, which was the reason he nearly toppled over head-first into the person standing in front of him.

He cussed quietly, fumbling with his phone as the person-shaped figure let out an incredibly undignified shriek. Vic squinted and raised his phone higher—shining the light directly into Hop’s eyes.

“Hop?” he asked hoarsely. He quickly angled the light so it was less in Hop’s eyes and more on his mouth. Vic swallowed.

“Vic?” Hop blinked rapidly, adjusting his glasses. “What are you doing here?” Vic must have winced, because before he could respond, Hop fretted his hands in front of him. “Not that I’m not glad to see you! Better running into you than any other bloke in the middle of the woods. But why am I seeing you here? Um. In the middle of the night?”

“It’s early morning, actually,” Vic croaked. He noticed Hop was holding something heavy in his left hand. When Hop saw him looking, he gripped it tighter.

“I don’t know why I’m here,” Hop admitted, looking down at his feet. “I...I keep thinking about this place. And—And this—“ he waved the item in his hand up, towards the light, and Vic realized it was the old rusted sword. “—this thing keeps like, haunting me. I can’t stand it anymore.” He lifted his gaze, and Vic scrambled to do the same, flushing. Hop’s face did a strange twinge—something Vic had only seen Hop and Leon’s faces do—where his face went all lopsided and, for a moment, half his expression was smiling and the other half was crushingly, heartachingly sad. “That’s...crazy, right? I feel pretty crazy.”

Vic stared for a moment. Not too long for it to be weird—no, he’d had too much practice staring and making sure it wasn’t weird—but apparently a bit too long, if Hop’s face falling was any hint. “Uh. Well.” Vic scrambled with his phone and bag, slinging it off his shoulders and digging into the contents. “If it’s any consolation, I must be pretty crazy, too.”

He found what he was looking for, abandoning his phone on the ground to grab the shield with both hands and thrust it up so Hop could see. A moment passed, then Hop’s face split into a relieved grin.

“It’s these damned dreams,” Hop sighed. Fourteen year-old Vic couldn’t have ever imagined Hop cursing, but the years had changed him. At least he didn’t grow a beard, even if Vic had to practically beg him not to. Hop scratched his (thankfully smooth) cheek. “I...I think it has something to do with these old things.” He gave the sword in his hand a halfhearted lift. Vic picked up his phone and bag, tucking the shield under his arm.

“I get what you mean. I think I’ve finally reached my limit.” He adjusted the weight of his bag on his shoulders. “I’ve been so stressed about this thing I can hardly focus on filling my ‘dex.”

Hop smiled. “Still stuck trying to find a Clefairy?”

“You have no idea,” Vic groaned. “I think, like, the entire population of Clefairies holds meetings just to schedule avoiding me. I’m just—“ he scrubbed a hand over his face, nearly blinding himself with his flashlight in the process “—so frustrated.”

Hop’s grin was soft. “How about letting off some steam?” The sword in his hand was traded for a pokeball from his bag. “It’s been ages since you’ve seen my team, and I know how much you like a stimulating battle. Besides,” he cracked his knuckles over his pokeball, which shouldn’t nearly be as endearing as Vic found it to be. “We’re rivals, aren’t we? Pretty lame of us not to have a go at each other in so long. So, what of it, mate?” His grin was blinding. Vic couldn’t reach his pokeballs fast enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im on tumblr: @tin-foiled
> 
> shoutout to my british homie for telling me what the fuck tea is supposed to be like


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> good evening everybody its late at night and im watching juns kitchen while writing new chapters. hope u enjoy

Hop had gotten much stronger. How he’d managed to fit training into his busy uni schedule was beyond Vic, but evidently he’d trained a LOT, if the strength of his team was any indication. In their previous battles, Dubwool hardly survived past Golisopod’s First Impression, but this time she stuck it out long enough to deal a considerable amount of damage. Vic, in the midst of it all, was ridiculously happy with how well Hop knew him. A good, hard battle always bled the tension from his body, and as conceited as it sounds, finding a battler his level was becoming harder by the day.

In the end though, Hop’s Snorlax fell to Vic’s Toxtricity thanks to a well-set Toxic. The sun had begun creeping over the horizon and onto the two trainers, out of breath and smiling. Hop sat on the steps of the old ruins, leaning back and spreading out, and Vic joined him, silently offering a few revives that Hop gratefully accepted. He softly thunked his head against Vic’s in a show of affection Vic had always adored.

“I keep forgetting how powerful you and your team are,” Hop admits, feeding his pokemon revives and checking them over. “I know, rationally, that you’re the Champion and all, so you’ve gotta be strong and stuff—I just forget how hard you pack a punch, yaknow? It’s like the difference between knowing how hard a Machamp can hit and actually being punched by one.” 

Vic laughed. “You’ve gotten crazy strong yourself, Hop.” Vic patted Dubwool while Hop sprayed her with a full restore. “I don’t know how you’re managing to get stronger while also getting, like, the best scores in bio.”

“Now who told you that rubbish?!” Hop squeaked. “Me? Top marks? Bio?! Somebody’s been lying to you, mate.”

“Oh, come off it. Kantonion bloke at the Rotom Rally told me you got upper second while everyone else got third.”

“Trace,” Hop said gravely. “Bushy-tailed bastard. He was exaggerating. The girl that sits next to me got lower second.”

“Oh, that’s alright then,” Vic quipped sarcastically. “Bet she cheated off of you but couldn’t read your handwriting for shite.”

“Oi!”

Vic shook with laughter, so loud he could hardly hear Hop’s defense for his practically illegible handwriting. As he laughed and Hop raved, another figure made its way out of the mist.

“I should’ve known it’d be you two out here,” Sonia tsked in lieu of greeting.

“Nice to see you, Sonia. You look well.” She did look well—Vic wasn’t lying—with her recent haircut framing her face with a tasteful bob. She’d taken over her grandmother’s laboratory and it suited her well. Her once spotless lab coat was now decorated with cute little buttons and a single punk patch with a Yamper decal Marnie had gifted her a few years back, and it was so uniquely hers Vic couldn't understand the sight of plain labcoats anymore. 

“Sonia! Tell Vic he’s being unfair about my writing!” Hop demanded, not unkindly. Sonia’s face quirked as she suppressed a smile.

“Hop, dear, I love you like my own brother, but it’s a miracle you can read what you’ve put down at all.”

“Oh not you too!” Hop whined, elbowing Vic to stop his snickering. “What’re you doing out here anyway, other than spreading slander about my writing?”

Sonia twirled a strand of hair around her finger and grinned. “Well, I came down to Postwick hoping to deliver two of my favourite trainers some limited-edition signed copies of my book,” she pulled out two books from her purse, where it proudly displayed ‘by Professor Sonia Magnolia’ on the front. “But imagine my surprise when neither of them were home! Luckily for you two, you fight louder than an Exploud.” She handed them each a copy. Vic flipped through it politely, skimming over the details of Galarian history and theories of Dynamaxing before putting it in his bag.

“I’ve already got one. Bought it the day it came out!” Hop exclaimed proudly. “Been using it in my history courses. My professor wants me to write a paper about some of the stuff you’ve got in there.”

Sonia grinned. “That’s good to hear! I hope you crush your classmates during finals. If you do, cite me. I’ll rake in some sweet sales.” Hop beamed and gave an enthusiastic thumbs-up. “Now, what’re you lot up to in here anyway, battling at six in the morning?”

“Having a crisis,” Vic replied, just as Hop shouted, “It’s six?!”

Sonia snorted. “I see that. What’s this crisis about, then?”

Hop and Vic both reached for the sword and shield, displaying them with a dejected sort of tiredness.

“We keep having weird visions of this place,” Hop sighed. “And these old things make it worse. We didn’t plan to come here. We just kind of…” He trailed off, gesturing vaguely with the sword.

“We both kind of snapped, honestly,” Vic admitted. “Bede the Dream-Crusher’s been having problems keeping me asleep for days, and when I came to the lounge last night I just couldn’t stand it anymore.” His mention of Hatenna made Hop laugh, like Vic had hoped he would.

“I think I came here to put it back,” Hop added quietly. “I can’t stand to look at it, and throwing it out would be wrong. So I think I’ll put it back.”

Vic wondered why he didn’t think of that. Years of looking away from the mantle and all he had to do was walk through a forest and put a shield back on a grave. “Yeah...I...Yeah, let’s do that,” he said, standing. He offered a hand to help Hop up, skin tingling at the contact of Hop’s smooth palms. The two of them took the steps up to the grave, gently placing the rusted artifacts back onto their hangings. Immediately, Vic felt relief wash over him. Arceus, five years of nightmares and guilt and all he had to do was listen to Hop. What would he do without him?

Before he could think too hard about it, footsteps that weren’t Sonia’s sounded behind him. He turned to look just as a man rudely shoved past Sonia, who shouted “Oi!” in annoyance as she struggled to fix her footing. The man was wearing a garish red suit, and was accompanied by a man with the exact same suit in blue. Vic thought their outfits were ridiculous enough, but their hairstyles made him physically cringe.

“Well, I certainly thought I heard someone making a fuss out here,” the red-suited man exclaimed, not even looking at Sonia, who was glaring daggers at the pair of them. The red-suited man’s hair was the more bearable of the two, making Vic think of those old police photos of the red-haired inventor in Kalos who’d gone crazy nearly a decade ago. The blue-suited man, on the other hand… Well, Vic had a list of things his hair reminded him of, but none of them were good.

The pair pushed past Hop and Vic in an incredibly rude manner, and just as Vic opened his mouth and Hop cried “Hey, what—“ the two of them grabbed the sword and shield from their hangings. Damn it all.


	4. Chapter 4

Vic was not a fan of the weird brothers.Their introduction was rude enough as it, with the stealing of the artifacts and all, but the fact that they immediately mocked Sonia’s research didn’t help their image much. Vic was relieved to know he beat the shit out of the red one, though. He’d been absolutely pissed to no end as he fought, taking an incredibly aggressive front with his move choices and adopting a stony stoicity. While he tore down red brother, Hop struggled greatly with blue’s steel types. In the looks Vic stole his way, Hop was red-faced with exertion, staring straight ahead at his opponent and yelling clipped commands.

Vic was happy to beat the red brother, but he wanted to kick in the blue brother’s teeth for the things he said to Hop.

Hop held it together while the weird brothers droned on with their speech, but the second they were out of sight he pushed his glasses up and inhaled with a shaky sob. He didn’t cry much, just a few tears and some shaky breathing, but that was somehow more shattering to Vic than if he’d sobbed openly into his shoulder. Hop was used to people saying rude things about him. Sure, it still hurt, but it hurt a lot less when it was happening for the four hundredth time than the fourth. Vic didn’t like to think about it, so he focused on wrapping an arm around Hop and rubbing his back in what he hoped were comforting circles.

“Well they were right cunts,” Sonia stated, breaking the stifling quiet. Hop snorted and wiped at his eyes.

“What assholes,” he agreed, with feeling. Vic laughed, the tension draining out of his body, and lightly jostled his friend.

“I hate the whole look they’ve got going on,” Sonia continued. “Those suits look like warning labels. And their hair—“

“Oh Arceus, their hair,” Vic groaned. “They’re mental. They’ve got to be. No one can look in the mirror with their hair like that and decide it’s a good idea.”

Hop was laughing now, leaning into Vic’s side. He swiped his hands across his face and made a garbled, frustrated noise. “I refuse to believe that they told us their real names.”

“To be honest, I don’t even remember them,” Vic said. “I was too preoccupied with their style.”

“Well their names are stupid!” Hop insisted. “Some rubbish like, like Swordbert and...Shield-guy or something. Honestly, no mum would name their kid soemthing so stupid. I refuse to believe it.”

Sonia grinned devilishly. “Whatever you say, ‘Hop’.”

“Now wait a minute!” Hop whirled out of Vic’s embrace to point an accusatory finger at Sonia. His glasses nearly flew off his head, caught precariously on his crown in his thick hair. “My mum named me Hop ‘cause it’s a proper Galarian name! I dare you to open up a baby names book and find ‘Swordbert’ in it!”

The three of them laughed together, and for a fleeting moment Vic felt fourteen again—fresh on his journey and filled with excited nerves. Nowadays his nerves were just nervous. The mirth seeped out of Vic quickly.

The uncomfortable energy infected the lot of them, and Hop scuffed his trainers against the dirt. “Well I ought to see if I can find those bastards,” he sighed, slipping his frames back onto his nose. “Hopefully I can catch them before they reach the train or something. Later.”

Vic reached out to pat his shoulder, but Hop had already begun to jog off. He tried not to be too bothered by it.

“I’m going to kill that blue-suited racist bastard,” he stated. Sonia nodded.

“I support that. I’ve got an alibi for you if you need one. Man, what a dickhead. Literally, with the way he’s got his hair up—“

“Maybe he’s compensating for something,” Vic joked. Sonia threw her head back in an impressive cackle and slapped Vic square on the back.

“You’re wasted in the championship, mate,” she grinned. “Should’ve been a comedian instead.”

Vic smiled, but he turned her words over in his head. He felt wasted away. His eyes fell to the path Hop had jogged down.

He was a mess.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> here we go babey. double whammy update. piers makes an appearance ! google docs HATES his accent

Sonia took Vic back to her lab, where her assistant greeted them at the door. She had worked for Sonia for a couple of weeks now, and though Vic had forgotten her name (and was too embarrassed to ask again), he thought she was a good fit. She was a nice lady, he supposed, and she matched Sonia’s wild energy marvelously well. Vic didn’t know how she did it.

Sonia had immediately been speaking professor-y jargon the second she reached her whiteboard. In the snippets Vic heard, she mentioned dynamax, energy levels, and social media. her assistant kept up just fine, offering insight and writing things down, but Vic didn’t really know what was going on until Sonia pushed him out the door and told him to check on Turffield. That he understood.

His phone told him no taxis nearby were free to take him up to Turffield, so he made his way to the train station. He tried calling Hop, but he was sent straight to voicemail, so he tucked his phone in his pocket and decided that this was the kind of day that required strong coffee over tea.

There was a booth on the Wedgehurst train that Vic favored more than the others, and he was pleased to see it was unclaimed. He slid comfortably into the seat, setting his drink on the table and shooting a quick text to his mum about what was up, and was hit with the familiar nostalgia of his first train ride as a gym challenger. He and Hop had been so over the moon they could hardly contain themselves—talking excitedly over their phones and doing everything short of throwing things in sheer glee. Hop had almost accidentally smacked a passenger in the aisle with a grandiose hand motion, and had been so caught up in his good mood he forgot to feel embarrassed.

Vic wasn’t a fresh challenger anymore, but this booth still held trace amounts of the unbridled joy he once felt. He didn’t have a friend with him today, so he read a bit of Sonia’s book to entertain himself for the ride.

When he stepped into Turffield Stadium, texting Sonia about how much he was enjoying the book so far, he was greeted with complete emptiness. The silence was jarring, and the absence of the retailers and Ball Guy made Vic incredibly uncomfortable. Cautiously, he made his way to the pitch doors.

Where was Milo?

“Victor!”

Vic was proud of himself for not screaming, even if the jump and immediate reach for his pokeballs was a little embarrassing. Milo jogged up to him from the maintenance doors, trailed by a shadowy figure Vic was surprised to recognize as Piers.

“Victor! It is so good to see you!” Milo clasped him on the shoulder, even if it was slightly more difficult to reach than it was five years ago. He still looked as young as he did then, and even though Vic should be used to it by now he was still stunned by the visual disparity between his gentle face and his strong body. He was proud of his ability to control his blush—his primary school crush on Milo may have died out ages ago, but damn it all if the man wasn’t attractive. “A pokemon dynamaxed unexpectedly, and we’ve been struggling to hold it off while we’re evacuating,” Milo continued. “We need to—“

The maintenance doors slammed open again.

“I got everyone from the left side of the stadium out! Is the right side okay?” Hop came into view and Vic’s breath stuttered helplessly. He was filled with a wild energy, and looked so much more grown up than Vic was used to seeing him—tall and serious, purposefully placing his pokeballs in his bag and sweeping the room with a laser focus in his eyes. His gaze landed on Vic, and instantly the intensity of his character dropped in favor of a blinding grin. Vic’s mouth ran dry.

“Vic! Vic, mate, it’s so good to see your beautiful face! We need help taking down that damned Tsareena, before she hurts somebody. She knocked my Dubwool out cold when I tried to take her on, and all my other pokemon were working to help everyone out—“

“Oi, deep breaf, kid,” Piers said, not unkindly. His accent was punchy, with a rough grit that caught on words and made them sound aggressive, but Vic was proud to have learned how to read it from Marnie. “Right side’s jus’ fine, don’t worry ‘bout tha’. Th’four’ve us oughta be able t’ take on th’ fing togeva’. Let’s move onnit, yeah?”

He made his way to the pitch doors, towering over Vic and making Milo appear comically dwarvish. Piers propped open a door and held it, making the world’s most punk ‘after you’ gesture. They followed.

—————

Vic hates battling Tsareena.

Several challengers of his had gotten one to combat Golisopod’s First Impression, which is annoying enough as is, but he also spent about an hour and around seventy pokeballs of varying kinds trying to catch the damn thing for his pokedex, so he wasn’t too keen on her to begin with.

This battle did not help her image in the slightest.

Firstly, she negated his First Impression—which, rude—then inflicted annoying status effects and terrain modifiers that made the whole “Stop the rampaging Tsareena from endangering an entire town” thing much more difficult than it needed to be. It was by no means a hard battle—what with four people and a massive type advantage and all—it was just long and annoying. Golisopod finally did her in with a hard-hitting Leech Life, and Milo made sure she was okay and in the less dangerous stadium lobby before reviving her.

“I don’t understand what made her dynamax so suddenly,” Milo puzzled, spraying a full restore on the pokemon’s petals. She stared at Vic with her permanently smug expression. Vic bristled. 

Piers said something back to Milo, but Vic didn’t catch it in favor of narrowing his eyes back at the pokemon in front of him. “Mate, do you think it has anything to do with the weird brothers?” Hop asked, nudging Vic to get his attention. Vic reluctantly broke his contest with Tsareena to face him. Damn Hop and the things he made Vic do.

“Do you really think those two could pull off something like this?” he responded honestly. “Full offense to those guys, but they look like they don’t even know how to put fitted sheets on a mattress.”

Hop made a sound of agreement. He opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by a voice that was. unfortunately, familiar.

“What a rude young man!” Blue Guy sniffed haughtily. Vic couldn’t find it in himself to feel sorry.

“I agree, brother,” Red Guy said, glaring at Vic. Okay then. They were those kinds of people. The “I’m-So-High-Class-I-Call-My-Brother-‘Brother’-Instead-Of-His-Name” kinds of people. Vic cringed.

“We’ll have you know we’re competent enough to harness power spots, let alone use fitted sheets,” Blue Guy continued.

“Unlike your trashy friend over there,” Red Guy sneered. Piers, who had been watching this exchanged in quiet befuddlement, narrowed his eyes at Red Guy. Vic saw him shift slightly, making his posture looser and more relaxed.

“Yes, I doubt he even sleeps with fitted sheets,” Blue Guy grinned with no humor, staring directly at Piers. Vic realized they weren’t really talking about laundry. Piers blinked slowly without breaking eye contact. Milo had his hands full keeping Tsareena calm, and Hop’s eyes flitted between Piers and the brothers, swallowing nervously.

“I don’t believe he even has a mattress, poor sod. I mean, look at his hair! He must have slept in an alley.”

“Isn’t he the Spikemuth ex-gym leader? The one who couldn’t even dynamax?”

“Oh yes, I believe you’re right. Poor bloke, no wonder his hair’s the way it is. He’s been sleeping in worse than just an alley!”

The brothers laughed togetherin an annoying, snobbish way. If Vic was a braver man he’d punch them. Piers still stared at the two, making his posture marginally more comfortable and laid back, lazily watching them run their mouths.

Realizing they weren’t going to get a response, the brothers straightened their clothes primly and were off, commenting loudly about their genius and the next gym stadium they were after. As soon as they were out of sight, Hop turned sharply on his heel to chase after them. 

“Oi. Kid.” Piers gave the back of Hop’s bag strap a gentle tug. “Let ‘em off fis time, yeah? They’re headin’ out to Motostoke, an’ wif the amoun’ve braggin’ they’re doin’ it’ll be a damned feat ifya manage ta lose’m.”

“I don’t like how they talked to you,” Hop blurted, still facing the door. “They were rude to Sonia and me, too. It’s like they’re scraping the bottom of the barrel just to get us angry.” Hop faced the group again, with the strap of his bag trapped between his hands in a vice grip. He looked more upset than Vic had seen him in years, negative emotions sitting awkwardly on a face that was used to smiling. Vic hated those stupid brothers.

“They are rather offensive, aren’t they?” Milo commented, scratching Tsareena’s head as high as he could reach. “I can’t stand people like that.”

“They weren’t doin’ a right good job a’it,” Piers scoffed. “Spikemuth bein’ worse tha’ an alley? Really? Tha’s th’ bess they could come up wif?” He shook his head, jewelry jingling. “I’ve ‘eard much worse fram firteen yea’ ols on th’ internet. Isslike they aren’ even tryin’ ta come up wif a propa insult.”

“It’s like they google mean things to say before they show up,” Vic added. Piers laughed.

“I’m still tired of it,” Hop said, frowning. “People are supposed to be getting nicer. They were getting nicer. Hardly anyone was rude to Leon when he got his top surgery.”

“Fese two a’ jus’ a coupla assholes, yeah?” Piers waved his hand dismissively. “Pre’ty dangerous, nasty buggas, but jussa pair’ve assholes wif some weird power. Not like it’s ya first time wif one’ve those.”

“At least Chairman Rose wasn’t a racist git,” Sonia chimed in. The doors of the stadium swooshed shut just as silently as they opened when she piped up again. “He was pretty sexist though. The weird brothers say something about you too, Piers?”

“Callin’ me trashy an’ poor,” Piers shrugged.

“Bastards,” Sonia stated, nodding. “Saw some cheeps about the situation. A dynamaxed Tsareena?”

“She’s alright now, along with the crowds.” Milo gave Tsareena a final pat and settled his hands on his waist. Tsareena made a sad little noise before turning her gaze to Vic. Vic firmly shoved his hands in his pockets.

“No one’s sure why she dynamaxed so suddenly. She wasn’t even in battle or anything,” Hop supplied. Sonia pursed her lips.

“Think it’s the weird brothers?”

“They certainly took credit for it. Gloating and all before they sped off. They’ve headed to Motostoke now, then probably Hulbury after that.”

“D’ya fink they’ll go after Spikemuth?” Piers twisted his necklace worriedly. “Marn’s got’er hands full wif tha whole stadium fing. It’d be a right mess if a dynamax ‘appened in the mid of a construction.”

Sonia’s face softened. “Spikemuth doesn’t have a power spot, remember? Marnie’ll be fine, don’t fret. ‘Sides, she’d beat up the weirdos the second they tried to cause any ruckus. She’s ridiculously strong.”

Her flattery of Marnie worked to quell Piers’ uneasiness. He still looked a bit nervous, but he’d stopped fidgeting with his necklace and let his hands fall to his sides again.

“I can send her a text telling her to keep her eyes out for two awful-looking misogynists, if you’d like,” Hop offered, sliding his phone out of his pocket. 

Piers smiled. “Nice finkin’, mate. Go on then.”

Vic watched Hop write out a text not only to Marnie, but to the group chat with Vic and Bede in it as well. Vic’s phone buzzed, and when he checked the screen he saw Hop’s text read “hey guys two ugly young boomers are going to gyms and making random pkmn dynamax so be on the lookout”, followed immediately by “they look like this:” with a Pyroar emoji over a red block and a rather suggestive emoji over a blue one. Vic’s chest swelled and he smiled dopily at his screen, responding to the message with a string of every possible “disgust” emojis. When he looked up, Piers had his eyes on him with an unreadable expression on his face. Vic quickly put his phone away.

“Well,” Sonia said, clasping her hands together. “Motostoke, anyone?”


End file.
